


this is the passing of all shining things

by blackkat



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Family, Gen, Hopeful Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 07:19:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13382910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: There's a monster whispering in Minato's head, curled around his soul. It’s vast and hungry and full of fury, radiates it and basks in it and lets it spill over through the bars that cage it. If Minato had one ounce more energy, he would rage too, but—Anger is a luxury right now, an indulgence. He can't afford it.





	this is the passing of all shining things

There's a monster whispering in Minato's head, curled around his soul. It’s vast and hungry and full of fury, radiates it and basks in it and lets it spill over through the bars that cage it. If Minato had one ounce more energy, he would rage too, but—

Anger is a luxury right now, an indulgence. He can't afford it.

Konoha is largely rubble. There are funerals to see to, funds to portion out in whatever measures they can be spared. Missions, because Konoha needs them to survive, but for the first time in years there are more mission requests than there are shinobi to fill them, and Minato is struggling to assign them in ways that won't be death sentences to unqualified shinobi. Too many young jounin left, with few of the older shinobi to temper them—Minato has never had to think about such things before, but it’s another factor to add in each time he pulls up the rosters, one more pound weighing on his shoulders as he makes his choices.

The war was hard, but Minato is absolutely sure that this is harder.

He rubs his hands over his face because he’s alone in the office, no one to see his moment of weakness. Digs the heels of his palms into his eyes until streamers of color swim behind the lids, but it doesn’t do much to ease the burn of sleeplessness. He’s tired in a way he hasn’t really felt in years, and it’s an ache deep down in his bones that feels like it won't ever disappear.

Deep inside of him, like an ember burning in his chest, the Kyuubi is watching, waiting. Minato hates it more than he’s ever hated anything before, and the weight of its attention makes disgust and anger curl in his chest. Ignored, for now, because there's no time for them, but—

Minato's very, very good at burying his emotions. He packs them up, shuts them away. Locks them down deep where he won't have to touch them, and focuses instead on the paperwork spread out across his desk. The piles never seem to stop growing, and Minato's doing as much as he can but it isn’t _enough_.

Still. _Still_. All that’s left is to go forward, to make sure that Kushina's sacrifice to save the village isn’t in vain. Minato _has_ to believe that if he’s going to force himself to get up every morning, crawl out of the bed they shared and put on the mask of a leader for the village they both loved, take care of the child they both wanted more than anything in the world. This is for Kushina, for Konoha, for Naruto.

The thought makes him glance over at the crib Mikoto dragged in for him, at the small body asleep and tangled in the blankets. It feels like it should be bittersweet, but it’s _not_. Minato smiles, and it’s not something he’s used to feeling anymore, genuine humor instead of a façade, but he can't resist. His son, _their_ son, and Minato reaches out, touches the wisps of blond hair that crown Naruto's head. Naruto snuffles in his sleep, one tiny hand pressed against his mouth, and Minato carefully lifts his hand, still smiling faintly.

 _For Naruto_ , he thinks, and it’s a sweet moment, peaceful in a way Minato will long for next time Naruto is awake and crying, but for now he’s going to hold tight to it and let it carry him through the morning.

“When you smile like that, I can see why Kushina married you.”

Minato's breath catches in his throat, and he glances up at the woman in the doorway, watching him with sharp, dark eyes. Mikoto is in her military police uniform, the first time Minato has seen her wearing it since before Itachi was born, but she still has Sasuke in a sling across her chest. It’s a strange contrast to the katana across her back, but the cool, closed expression on her face is more than enough to keep Minato from commenting.

“It was always a mystery to me,” he says, almost a joke, though it falls flat halfway through.

Mikoto snorts quietly, but she steps into the office, sets a small stack of scrolls on the empty corner of his desk. “Me too,” she agrees, mouth tipped into a faint smirk even though her eyes are full of a wild kind of grief. It’s the kind of thing that Minato _wants_ to feel, but—

He’s too tired, and even if he wasn’t, he can't risk his hold on the Kyuubi slipping. Kushina was born to be a jinchuuriki, trained for it. Minato only knows what he learned from watching her, and it isn’t nearly enough.

He always knew Kushina was strong, but now, with the constant hum of power under his skin that makes him feel like he’s on the edge of burning up, with the voice in his head that whispers promises every time he missteps, he realizes that he never understood just how strong she really was in every aspect.

“Shouldn’t you be more polite to your Hokage?” he asks, more curious than accusing, and Mikoto arches one incredulous brow.

“When my Hokage is being stupid and working himself to death?” she drawls. “Absolutely not.”

Minato winces. Mikoto's never been one to mince her words, despite her position as Clan Head’s wife, but the last month she’s been particularly blunt. Grieving, Fugaku said, in her own way, and Minato hadn’t questioned it. Mikoto loved Kushina too.

There's a faint sigh, and Mikoto taps a finger on the scrolls she brought. “The identities of the ANBU who kept us in the compound,” she says. “Fugaku and I interviewed every clan member, then cross-referenced the information we got with duty rosters, personnel files, and medical records. You were right. All of them were Root.”

It takes effort not to grimace, but Minato picks up the scroll anyway. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

Mikoto smiles, but the expression is arctic. “It wasn’t for you, Hokage-sama. Someone tried to accuse me of letting my best friend die while I did _nothing_. I want to be the one to drag them out into the light and then gut them for it.”

Minato has spent enough nights wondering what the presence of the Uchiha on the battlefield could have done to change things. He doesn’t even try to argue.

“I’ll have Shikaku and Inoichi start with assessments,” he promises, and Mikoto inclines her head.

“Good,” she says, fiercely satisfied, and looks up to hold Minato's gaze. “Now, with all due respect, Hokage-sama, leave a shadow clone here and take your son out of this stuffy office. Eat lunch. Find a hill to sit on and enjoy the sun. Kushina would punch you in the face if she could see you now.”

He isn’t given a chance to protest; Mikoto scoops up the stack of completed forms that are ready to file, then sweeps out of the room and down the stairs.

For a long moment, Minato blinks after her, then looks down at his hands on the desk. That’s…not something he’d thought of, but it’s so utterly obvious in hindsight he kind of wants to kick himself now. He’s a jinchuuriki now; a single shadow clone isn’t going to be a strain. Hell, a _dozen_ shadow clones probably wouldn’t be.

He wants to laugh, a little, or maybe wants to cry. Has to take a moment, rub his hands across his face again because this is all just—strange. _So_ strange. Minato's been a shinobi for a long time now, has known his own limits with the intimacy that comes from running headlong into them so many times, but now they're just not there anymore. It feels wrong to mourn the loss of something like that, a border on his strength, but—

Minato is mourning so much right now, what's one more thing added to the pile?

Before he can quite help himself, he casts a glance out the wide window of the office. Konoha is just as ruined as it was when he arrived this morning, but the sun is shining. He hadn’t quite noticed, but it looks warm, like one last day of summer clinging to the autumn. Minato hesitates, looking from the window back to his desk, and then over at his son.

Blue eyes stare back at him, wide and interested. Naruto still has his fist in his mouth, but he’s awake and alert, not quite tracking Minato's movements but paying attention nevertheless. Minato smiles at him, reflexive and instinctual, even though Mikoto's told him Naruto won't smile back for at least another month. He can't help it; he has a _son_.

Growing up an orphan, alone and always lonely, Minato had dreamed about having a family of his own. Finding out that Kushina was pregnant was one of the best days of his life, and seeing Naruto, _holding_ him—

It’s a small, bittersweet thought, but as he leans over the crib and scoops Naruto up in his arms, Minato can't help but be breathlessly glad that Kushina refused to let him be the one to seal the Kyuubi. She’d done it instead, because she was dying already, because Naruto deserved at least one parent and she couldn’t be it. Minato was ready to make that sacrifice, because he’s always going to put the village first, but…

He’s unspeakably relieved that he didn’t have to.

“Hey there, Naruto,” he says gently, carefully cradling the boy to his chest. Close to his face, he reminds himself; Mikoto told him babies need to track expressions, and right now their range vision is short. “What do you think? Your godmother’s right, we should go outside for a while.”

It is, technically, just about the last thing Minato should be doing; he has paperwork to complete, an inspection of one of the sections of the wall to oversee, a meeting with Sarutobi about genin advancements to attend. At some point he’s going to have to call Orochimaru to his office and try to persuade him to give up information on Danzō, meet with Shikaku and Inoichi about who held the Uchiha back from the fighting during the attack. Leaving a shadow clone seems like cheating, like something uncomfortably close to betrayal, because this is Minato's duty and he can't shirk it.

Then again, maybe thinking like that means he _really_ needs a break.

He smiles at Naruto, and it’s small and a little wry but he’s _trying_. “Off we go, huh? And tonight Kakashi will be back, won't that be fun? He’s so silly around you, isn’t he?”

Minato mostly tries not to think about it, because he knows _why_ —Kakashi is scared of hurting Naruto, scared of getting attached and then losing him. Kushina's death so close on the heels of Rin's and Obito's has just made things worse, and between that and all the others killed in the attack, Minato is wiling to admit it’s not paranoia for Kakashi to feel that way. Not at this point.

“He’ll get through it,” he tells Naruto, holding a finger out to him. It gets him a burbling gurgle in answer, and Naruto grips his finger, eyes fixed on him. Not smiling yet, but he’s a happy baby. Minato is hoping it won't be too long.

“I wish—” he starts, not even thinking about the words, and then stops short when he realizes the end to that sentence. _I wish your mom could see you right now_. She was so enthusiastic about Sasuke, about babies in general, and Minato felt the same. They wanted Naruto with all of their hearts, and for all the tragedy of that night—

“I'm so glad you're here,” Minato tells his son, because no matter what, _no matter what_ , Naruto is never, ever going to doubt that he was always wanted, the very best thing in their lives. He kisses Naruto on the forehead, holds him close and tucked right under his chin. “I'm so glad your mom got to hold you before—before it was over. She thought you were beautiful too, didn’t she?”

Naruto burbles, content to be held, and Minato smiles. The diaper bag is within easy reach, and he grabs it and wraps Naruto up carefully in a blanket, then pauses. The shadow clone jutsu is easy enough to remember, and Minato braces himself for the strange, tearing sensation of his chakra being split in half. It’s one of the things he dislikes most about this version—it’s stronger, steadier, but it feels a bit like slicing himself in two, and Minato's never been fond of it.

Smoke whirls, the copy pops into existence, and Minato braces himself for the drain, the surge of effort—

Nothing. Nothing but half a second of derisive attention from the presence inside of him, the mental equivalent of cracking a closed eye halfway open. He’s strong enough now that half of his chakra is still far more than he used to have at his best, and it’s entirely unnerving. Minato has to wonder if he’ll ever get used to the change.

The clone looks unperturbed, at least; it turns to Minato and smiles, and he nearly winces. If that’s how tired he looks, no wonder Mikoto actually said something.

“Thanks,” Minato says, because even if it’s his own copy it doesn’t feel polite not to acknowledge that it’s going to be the one doing the work.

“Not a problem,” the clone tells him warmly, then settles into the chair behind the desk and picks up the pen.

Free time, Minato thinks, a little bewildered. Free time with no faint nausea from having half his chakra gone. Sunshine, and his son, and a large chunk of the day open before him.

Gods, he can't remember the last time he took even an hour for himself.

Maybe it’s that thought, but Minato touches the hilt of the Hiraishin kunai hanging from his belt, glances at the door as he weighs his options, and then smiles, just a little. He has the chakra, after all—the Hiraishin doesn’t take vast reserves, just control—and besides, if he walks down the stairs _someone_ is going to need him immediately. Better to just…give himself a bit of breathing room.

A flash of yellow light, the twisted sweep of motion while at the same time he’s standing perfectly still, and Minato touches down in the open field of his favorite training ground, barely even stirring the grass. In his arms, Naruto makes a loud, enthusiastic noise, and it’s enough to startle a laugh from Minato. Rusty, a little rough, but _real_. He boosts Naruto up so that they're face to face, smiling up at him, and spins in a slow circle.

“That was fun, wasn’t it?” he asks, and gently wiggles the finger Naruto is still clutching. “As soon as you start using chakra I’ll teach you how to do it, too. Oh! And I have all those notes about Kushina's Chains, and maybe we can find some more Uzumaki scrolls—Kiri has to have some, and…I think it’s Yagura now? Yagura will probably know what the Sandaime Mizukage did with the ones he took from Uzushio. Kushina would definitely want you to learn Uzumaki Clan jutsus, seeing as you're an Uzumaki too.”

That was the obvious choice, when they were talking about names. Minato isn’t from any clan at all—his parents were civilians, immigrants from Kiri who died shortly after they arrived—but Kushina was. And with the Uzumaki scattered after Uzushio’s fall, practically wiped out, keeping her name when they married and then passing it on to their son was the best option. Minato is still glad for it; the Uzumaki have always been Konoha's allies, a part of the village down to the symbol on their flak jackets, and there should be at least one person in the village still carrying the name.

There might not be all that much of a village _left_ at the moment, but—the people are still here. They're all trying to rebuild. That has to be enough.

With a sigh, Minato drops down to sit in the grass, settling the diaper bag out of the way and pulling a blanket out of one end. He spreads it out carefully, then lays Naruto out on his front and sprawls on his side next to him, offering a finger again. Naruto clutches it happily, gurgling, and Minato chuckles a little.

“All this sunlight,” he says. “It’s nice, isn’t it? I think we’re going to have a warm winter this year.”

Naruto ignores him, distracted by his own hand, and Minato smiles, pillowing his head on his arm and watching his son. Kushina should be on the other side of him, he thinks, looking at him with her beautiful hair spread out around her and that smile he adored so completely on her face. Her absence _hurts_ , not a lost limb but a piece of himself carved out, but—

But she gave her life so that he could stay with Naruto, so that Naruto wouldn’t have to grow up an orphan, the way both of them did. Minato knows that, and despite all the grief inside of him, there's a spark of hope as well.

“I’ll just have to love you enough for both of us,” he tells Naruto, stroking his fingers over wispy blond hair. “That way, next time I see her, neither of us will have to have any regrets.”

Fortune willing, that won't be for a while. Minato has Naruto to look after, and Konoha as a whole. He’s going to have to be careful, and maybe he was never quite reckless before, but…he didn’t have anyone depending on him personally then. More thinking things through now, less instinctive reaction. Not too much of a change, but he has to do whatever he can to stay alive, and that’s not always an easy task for a shinobi. Not always the priority, either.

Letting out his breath on a sigh, Minato closes his eyes and tries not to think. The sun is warm, and he wants to enjoy it without letting any darkness creep in. A few hours out here and then he’ll feed Naruto again, find lunch for himself, and go back to the office. Until then…

He lets himself relax, listening to Naruto gurgle to himself. Makes a noise in response, vague and a little hazy, and allows himself to drift.

 

 

(In the darkness, a monster is waiting.

It looks at him, shining teeth and burning eyes, fire that destroyed his village, and growls like thunder heard from a mountaintop.

“ _You_ ,” it snarls, vast in the dim prison, and the bars are a cold comfort even though Minato _knows_ they’ll hold. “You little _worm_ , trying to diminish me, trying to _stop_ me—”

“We did,” Minato says, even though his heart is in his throat. The Kyuubi is vast, bigger than anything he’s seen before, and he feels so _small_ before it. “We stopped you. We _won_.”

The Kyuubi laughs, low and deadly, and the sound rolls right through Minato's bones to leave him breathless with an instinctive kind of terror. It doesn’t rule him, but it’s _there_ , ancient reflex that says _you are prey and this is your death_ , loud and strident in the back of his head.

“Won?” the Kyuubi mocks, and one red eye pins Minato in place. “You disarmed me for the moment, at _best_.”

It’s true, and Minato is strategist enough to acknowledge it. He tips his chin up, meeting that burning stare, and says firmly, “Not _just_ you. The masked man—you were his weapon, and that means we disarmed him as well.”

The Kyuubi pauses, and it’s startling to see the cunning that slides over its face. That’s a human expression, a human feeling, from a beast crouched and looming with nothing else human about it.

“He _used me_ ,” the Kyuubi growls. “And once I get free I’ll kill him for it, just like I will you.”

Minato remembers the Kyuubi's eyes from that night, mirroring the Sharingan and full of blank hatred. He hesitates, but—

Finding the masked man is the priority. He’s Konoha's greatest enemy right now, even more so than the Kyuubi.

“Help me find him,” he proposes, and Kushina always said the Kyuubi was too dangerous to make deals with, but this is half of the Kyuubi's power and their best chance at finding out who turned it on the village. Their best bet at clearing the Uchiha who tried to help the village and were held back by Root. Minato _knows_ Kushina would make an exception under these circumstances, so he meets the Kyuubi's stare and says, “Tell me what you know and when we find him, he’s yours.”

There's a long, long moment of silence, and then the Kyuubi grins, all teeth and terror. “Mine?” it rumbles. “You would go that far? Give me enough power to fight on my own and kill the little rat? I could take advantage, you know.”

“You will, but I’ll take my chances,” Minato says, because it’s fact. If he lets the Kyuubi out, even for something like this, he’s going to have to fight with every ounce of his power to get his control back. But that’s fine. It’s worth it. He and Kushina put in safeguards, too, and he’s confident they’ll hold.

The Kyuubi looks him over, cold and calculating and undercut with burning rage. Then, slowly, massive jaws open, and the Kyuubi laughs. “Information in return for blood,” it agrees. “You have a deal, worm.”

One step forward, Minato thinks, and closes his eyes against the whisper of relief that slides up through his chest. One step forward, and all he has to do is keep moving.

It’s a treacherous path, full of pitfalls, but Minato has faith. They’ll find their way clear eventually.

 

 

The sun is still warm when he wakes, lower in the sky but no less vivid. He hears a voice before anything else, familiar enough not to make him tense on instinct, and lets his eyes slide open.

He’s on his back, still stretched out on the grass. A brown-haired teenager in uniform is seated on the blanket, head bent over Naruto as he cradles the baby in his arms, but when he hears Minato stir he glances up and smiles around the senbon in his mouth.

“Morning, Hokage-sama,” he greets lazily. “Slept almost twenty-four hours, that’s impressive.”

“I did not,” Minato tells him, refusing to be alarmed. He sits up, raking a hand through his hair to get any debris out. “Try that on someone else, Genma. Someone who _wasn’t_ married to Kushina.”

Genma laughs, hitching Naruto up to lie against his shoulder. “Too bad. I’ll just have to try harder next time,” he says shamelessly.

Minato shakes his head, trying not to smile. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” he offers, apologetic.

The tokujo just shrugs a little. “You needed it, Hokage-sama. I'm not here to guilt you into dismissing that clone, I just want to do my job as your guard so the commander won't yell at me.”

“Shinku yells at everyone,” Minato reminds him, but he smiles a little at the way Naruto's eyes follow the sway of Genma's hair. “Besides, I don’t think babysitting my son is actually your job.”

Flashing him a crooked smile, Genma waves a hand. “It’s not like it’s trouble. He’s a sweet baby, and I'm used to it. My sister’s got kids. And he looked like he was getting hungry, so it was easy enough to feed him and let you sleep.”

Between Genma and Mikoto, Minato has enough support not to screw up monumentally. Or, at least, he hasn’t yet—there's no saying he won't in the future, and probably soon, but the help now is one of the things that’s letting him function even as much as he has been.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, and means it.

Genma looks at Naruto instead of at Minato, and the fall of his hair manages to hide most of his expression but Minato can still see the faintly pleased curve of his mouth. “You're the Hokage. As long as you’re still standing, I figure the village has a fighting chance, and that’s all _I_ need to keep standing. Anything I can do to help with that, I will. And I'm not the only one.”

Minato looks back towards the village, the edge of the Hokage Mountain just visible through the trees. Still there despite everything, and—

Maybe that’s enough to start with.

He closes his eyes, tips his head up to the sun. Thinks of Kushina and her fire, thinks of her sacrifice, of their son and the future Konoha will give him. Thinks of all the things destroyed in the attack, and all the things that weren’t.

Breathes in, breathes out.

Opens his eyes, and smiles.

“We’ll be okay,” he says, and refuses to let it be anything less than absolute truth.


End file.
